goners
by bleuboxes
Summary: After the loss of two of their own, the Avengers try their best to cope. Now, they need to rely on each other's support more than ever. (Collab with theshippingprince; contains Age Of Ultron Spoilers)
1. Chapter 1

She's glad it's a short service for Pietro. She's glad there are only those who were on that floating piece of land when it happened, because she is sure that they won't judge her at all when she balls her eyes out.

She wants to blame them so badly for the death of her brother – she wants them to pay for her loss – but she knows that it isn't their fault – it never will be their fault; Pietro had the heart of a hero and he made his own decisions.

He was always the brave one.

But, being brave doesn't stop death, and for Pietro that is all too true; there's nothing she can do to bring him back.

She's clutching Clint as if her life depends on it as her brother in his casket is lowered gently into the hole – it's the last time she'll ever be in the immediate presence of him and she's not ready for the loneliness of being by herself. She's never been completely on her own before; she's always had her brother.

He's always been there for her – through hell and high water. She'll try to deal without him, good god, she'll try, but she knows that it isn't going to be easy; it isn't going to be pleasant and she's going to need all the help she can get to survive the first couple months.

And as soon as it begins, it's over; he's buried – left to rot in the earth with a simple stone left to mark where he is and who he is. She's sobbing hysterically and each member of the Avengers comes over to pat her shoulder and say they are sorry for their loss. She can tell that they mean it, but their words still seem hollow.

Honestly, if they were anyone else, she wouldn't even try to convince herself that they were sorry that her brother was dead.

The only one who doesn't say anything is Clint, whom she is still gripping for dear life and he's also become her handkerchief. He lets go of her, and she makes her way to the headstone. She hesitantly creeps close to the stone where she collapses in a fit of sobs.

She tubs her fingers shakily along the engraving of his name in the stone, then pounds her fists into the freshly packed dirt, which is ruining her black funeral dress, but she doesn't care because her bother is dead and there's nothing she can do to fill the hole in her heart. (Plus, pounding her fists in the dirt is making her feel a little better.)

Today marks the third day that she's been without him and she's already been reduced to nothing more than a mere child. She misses him and she understands that she always will. She knows that he wouldn't want to see her falling apart like this, so she holds in the tears and clenches her fists against her sides. She stands up and walks back over to Clint, who she asks to drive her back to HQ, where she'll be able to grieve without any onlookers.

He agrees and they begin their drive home in silence, until about half way, when Clint starts telling her how sorry he is, that if she needs someone to blame, she can blame him because he already blames himself and he feels this unmeasurable guilt that he's alive and Pietro isn't. It breaks her heart even more because she believes that Pietro would never blame Clint, and he would never want her to blame Clint – her first and best friend, a father figure- for a decision that was made wholeheartedly by her brother.

So she tells him that it is not his fault. He nods in agreement, but she knows better; words aren't just going to magically make everything better.

Even though she doesn't blame Clint one bit, she still forgives him, because that's what her brother would want her to do. Pietro would want her to be happy and he'd want her to be brave for him.

Even if it kills her, she's going to work her ass off for him; he didn't die for her to just mope around and cry all day. She would do it all for him – she'd save the world for him. She would finish the job that he isn't able to, and that feeling of goodness makes her feel as if she has a purpose in life other than being a slave of someone or something with selfish intentions.

For the first time in her life, she is calling the shots; she's in charge of her own existence and it feels wonderful and she wishes her brother could be here to experience this feeling with her at this moment.

Then her thoughts drift back to the nostalgia memories of her childhood and her brother. Clint turns up the car's radio and ups the volume to his old man music, well she called it that to bust his ass even though she honestly liked the classic rock scene just as much as he did.

They reached headquarters in the middle of their jam out session to 'Carry on My Wayward Son'. She gives Clint a hug before exiting the car. He tells her to be careful; if she ever needs anything, she knows where to contact him.

She tells him he's being "Daddy Clint" again, in a teasing manner and he makes a joke when he replies with a simple "saving the world is my side job".

She calls him an old man with a smile and he scowls, gaining a laugh from her. Finally, she bids him farewell and enters the building, scanning her clearance card at every doorway, which was really annoying; she's going to have to complain to Tony Stark about the annoying British robot voice that says "access granted" every time she swipes her card.

She finally reaches her room and collapses on her bed and cries one last time for her brother as she holds his memory very close to her heart.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff and she's the Scarlet Witch; she's going to make the most of her life, no matter what happens later.

* * *

 **Okay, Howdy y'all; its bleuboxes.**

 **My dear friend, the shippingprince have decided to do a collaboration! (Hopefully it'll be found on both of our profiles soon enough)**

 **We're more than likely going to alternate between chapters, I wrote this one, so I think he's going to get the next which should be hella cool and im really super excited to get to work with him on this project because he's a fantastic writer and one of my best friends on the world wide web. (So I'll post a link or something so y'all can get to his page to read the next chappie)**

 **I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT SO PLEASE FOLLOW AND FAVORITE AND REVIEW BC WE LOVE REVIEWS A LOT (and we want to know if you like it!)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

His foot tapped against the ceramic tile. Over and over and over it tapped. Loud enough so it could be heard from all corners from the packed, yet homey, coffee shop. Loud enough that everyone, even the rather friendly barista, stayed away from him.

Sometimes, he wondered how she found these little places. What strange adventure led her to a quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. What battle brought her limping, bruised, and bloodied, all the way down some cobblestoned road to this particular coffee shop. Ready to put up one last fight against some unseen enemy.

But Natasha Romanoff was Natasha Romanoff. Natasha Romanoff would always be Natasha Romanoff. And nobody kept secrets better than she did.

Even as her best friend, if she did not want him to know a particular fact, he would not know it. That was just how it went with her.

But he often wondered how she remembered the little crevices that she brought him to. Always a different one. (It was bad to ever be in the same location more than once.) Yet, she shared them with him. Her pocket-sized homes. Her minuscule safe houses. Her crevices that littered the world like stars did the night sky.

A sign of her affection towards him.

A sign, through everything that had ever happened between them, and everything that would ever happen between them; that she still cared. She still loved him. In the strongest-most-best-friendliest-Natasha-Romanoff-iest way she knew how.

He glanced out the window.

The scenery was neat. Incredibly tidy. The street, though littered with small cars, had not a single piece of garbage on them. Perfectly cemented stones made the little vehicles shake slightly as they zipped past, going to wherever they were needed. Equally tall, symmetrical trees (though from this distance, he could not tell what type of trees they were) lined the space, about a meter apart from the last, between the road and the sidewalk. Very suburban, yet none the less cozy.

Yet also, it gave off the same feeling that one gets during one of those movies where everything seems perfect in a little town but, in actuality, everything is incredibly messed up. And the further one discovers into said town, the more insane the whole town seems. And the less one can escape from it.

Natasha loved those movies.

And in less hectic times, the two of them would curl up on a sofa together and watch those types of movies. Suspense and horror mixed into one beautifully shot film.

Of course, Natasha would yell at the characters on the screen. She always did. She would tell them that they were about to discover something that they would not like to discover. Or that they were being incredibly stupid. Or that they were walking right into a trap. She would dig her her nails into his forearm until the suspense died down. But she was always right.

Sometimes, he admitted to himself that he missed those times.

Before Linda, before the kids. When he was carefree. And not afraid that he was going to leave Laura without a husband, or a father for the kids. And that they would never know what happened to him.

With Natasha, he was reckless. They were reckless. And they loved it.

But times changed. He got married. She fell for Banner. And then he fell out of her life. Just as quickly too. They had lost too many fighting Ultron. Pietro and Banner. It felt as if half of their team was gone. And even after she—

"You're thinking too much, Barton." She was somehow sitting in the chair across from him. How had he not noticed her walk in? "Did I ever tell you how weird you look when you think too much? 'Cause you look really weird."

"I'll keep it in mind to think less in the future." A pause. "Do you want something to drink?"

The friendly barista called (in an annoyingly singsongy manner) a name that sounded remotely spy-esque. Lisa? Lianne? Something along those lines.

"I already ordered." She raised an eyebrow curiously. "What were you thinking about?" Not waiting for an answer, she got up to retrieve her drink.

Her hair was straight now. Red still, yes, but straight. He thought it made her look more sad. Or more grown up. Maybe both. Perhaps her curls reminded her too much of Banner? He wouldn't ask. At least, not until she was ready.

She was wearing a long black trench coat. It had a hood attached to the back, which gave her a kind of Little Red Riding Hood look. Though in her case, she would have not been eaten; she would have killed the wolf herself. She had on a pair of dark jeans and converse sneakers just as dark. The whole outfit just let her fiery locks standout like a sore thumb.

She said something to the barista, making the girl blush, and then pressed a ten dollar bill into the tip jar. She walks back to him and sat down.

He finally responded, "Nothing. Everything. They kind of mush into one after awhile."

She sipped her drink carefully. It said on the side that it was "Hot Chocolate for Linda!" with a heart dotting the "i". Cute. "That's all I'm going to get, Barton? You're awfully shy today."

"Are you saying I should reveal all my secrets? That would not make me a very interesting person, Linda." He smirked.

"Oh shut up." And she meant it.

At that moment, the barista walked over and carefully placed a warm drink down in front of me. She mumbled something about the drink being "on the house" in a high pitched voice, smiled at Nat and went back behind the counter.

"Thank you?"

"There's no need. You heard her: it's on the house." She smiled sadly at him before tucking a strand of bright red behind her ear.

"Nat…"

"Don't 'Nat' me, Barton."

"Fine." He looked down at the drink, which was steaming softly. It was probably another hot chocolate for Linda. She had to stop this, he didn't need her to take care of him. "How are you doing lately then."

"I'm alright." She didn't meet my eyes.

"No you're not."

"No I'm not." She put her head in her hands.

"Nat, you know you can talk to me, right?" He debated about reaching over and putting his hand over hers, but thought better of it. "I'm here for you no matter what."

There was a long pause after that. She might have been thinking over her words, and he might have been wondering if he had said the right thing. Or maybe it was just awkward. Maybe the two of them had just been apart for too long. The spark… Their spark, the one that had been with them as she was scouring the globe looking for him, was gone.

Or very soon to be gone.

He cared about her. He did. But he hadn't been there when she needed him most. And it would take awhile for them to build their friendship back up to what it had been before.

But she wasn't ready to give up hope just yet. "Will you stay with me? To train a part of the team, I mean."

"Nat I…"

"Clint, I need you with me. Just for a little while." She looked at him, trying to stay as strong as she could will herself to be. "Please."

There was an even longer pause as he thought over his options.

He had Laura to go back to. And his kids. Laura, with her beautiful flowing brown hair, and her deep puppy-dog eyes. He loved her to pieces. He would do anything for her. He should do anything for her, she was his wife after all. Natasha was just… His friend. His best friend.

And as much as he hated to admit it: his wife was much more important than his best friend.

And he hated to say it. He really hated to.

He and Natasha had been through everything together. Thick and thin, everything. She had sewn him up when he thought he was bleeding straight to his own demise. She had been there for him when nobody else was. And he was deeply grateful. Deeply in debt of what she had done for him. But…

She knew it was coming.

"I can't." He couldn't meet her eyes. "You know I can't."

Her whole demeanor changed. Her jaw tightened, lips thinning to stiff line, shoulders tensing. She was preparing for battle. No… Her heart was preparing for battle, putting its defenses up. He could feel everything that they had worked towards. Everything that the two of them had started to build. He could feel it slipping away.

And it hurt as much as any bullet wound. If not more.

"Right."

They finished the rest of their hot chocolates in silence.

She put her empty cup down on the table.

He tried to break the tension. "Do you want a ride?"

"I'm alright." She responded as cold as ice.

He did not want to leave their relationship in the shambles that it was in now. He couldn't bare it. To know that she was upset with him…

"I'll visit, Nat. I promise." He struggled to meet her eyes. "I'm a part of the team too, you know." She looked away.

"I know." A brief pause. "The Avengers would be nothing without you, Clint."

He shook his head sadly, "No Natasha. The Avengers would be nothing without you." And both of them knew it was the truth.

At that, she stood up, exited the building, got into her sleek car and drove off. Her car bumped and bounced down the street. Her hair blowing softly in the wind as she drove past. Not looking back at him once.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. The dialogue of the people sitting around him seemed to have picked up again, as if they were all listening in on their conversation. He hoped they weren't. It was embarrassing enough knowing that Natasha Romanoff was mad at him. He didn't need the whole world knowing.

Her cup sat on the table abandoned. Reminding him of everything he needed to fix. Everything that she needed help with. The help that he could not give her.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed their cups, walked to garbage can, tossed them in and left. He walked to his car, got in and drove down the cobbled street. Trying desperately to picture the look on Laura's face when he told her he would be staying for a very long while.

Trying desperately to push Natasha's stiff expression out of his mind.

* * *

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 **Matt (theshippingprince)**


	3. Chapter 3

For the third week in a row, she's spending her Saturday evening alone in her room watching some stupid TV show that she promised herself she wouldn't get hooked on. (It's too late for that.)

First, it was Natasha, who insisted that she should go out for a bit with her and Steve. She didn't want to intrude and she just didn't feel like going out; she was just starting to get over the fact that her brother was actually really gone and she didn't think that the alcohol was going to be such a great help with that.

The week after that, it was the Vision who came up to her and asked her if she would like to go get a bite to eat with him (on the HQ's grounds of course, which really means the snack bar.) She kindly refused. It wasn't that she didn't like the Vision, it was just that he was almost sort of made by Ultron, and she was still a bit weary of that. (Plus he wasn't really human, and though she had weird ass properties to her being, Vision was a whole new level of strange.)

Today, it happened to be Clint who asked her to come over to Tony's with him, so she could get to know the team a little better. She seriously considered it; they had been there for her for the funeral and the few weeks after, but she felt like she didn't really belong with them; she was different, the sore thumb, and she felt like she would be in the way.

She knew that wasn't true, but she convinced herself of the lie that they didn't want her there; she didn't show even though she told Clint that she was going to be there.

He hasn't called yet, but she's waiting to hear his disappointed voice on the other side of the telephone. She's trying to come up with a decent excuse to explain why she didn't show up (Really bad cramps? A big fitness exam the next day? Emotional instability?)

Either way, he's never going to believe any of the awful alibis. And she doesn't expect him too; the team doesn't know her nearly as well as Clint seems too, so they'll have no trouble buying her pathetic lies.

An hour passes. There is no phone call from Clint and her television marathon is over. Maybe Clint didn't even notice she didn't show. (She knows that's not true, Clint seems to love her like the daughter he never had.)

That's when the wave of loneliness washes over her. She's never felt so forlorn before, and it's no one's fault but her own. All she's been doing since the death of Pietro has been isolating herself; it's been giving her a false sense of security and freedom when in reality, it's been eating her alive. It's not that she isn't getting any worse, it's just that she's improved to a point where she can't get any better without any social interaction.

The fact is she's lonely and it's only taken a TV marathon and a silent cell phone to realize it.

So, she decides that visiting them can't hurt; she doesn't have to stay the whole time anyway, and she rushes into the bathroom to take a super quick shower to wash off all the sweat and dirt that has found its way onto her body in the last twelve hours.

She picks out her outfit, which is just a pair of jeans and a really soft long sleeved shirt, does her hair and brushes her teeth. She grabs her car keys and begins the twenty minute journey to Tony's Tower

* * *

She arrives a little later than she anticipated (What can she say, traffic was hell). She exits her car and walks up to the door of the building. Looking up at the massive structure, she can't help but feel nervous anticipation growing in the back of her mind.

What if they don't want her here? What if they just think that she's just some sad little girl? What if they didn't actually trust her?

(Deep down she was sure that all those thoughts were just stupid little things; they wouldn't have invited her to Tony Stark's prized jewel for drinks if they were apprehensive about her.)

So, before she can talk herself out of it, she enters the glass doors and she enters a very clean looking room. There's a teller desk thing, like there is in a bank, and she walks up to it, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there, so she enters the elevator.

She remembers Clint saying something about the top floor, so she presses that button and it takes the elevator about five minutes to reach the top. The door opens with a ding, and she finds herself looking at a very disorientated bunch of super humans.

They're all staring at her with curious expressions and it's making her feel a tiny bit uncomfortable. With a small voice, she finds the courage to say hello. And that's when all hell breaks loose.

Clint's rushing over to her (he seems a tiny bit sober), and tells Tony and Steve that they each owe him twenty dollars or something because she turned up. He tells her he's really glad that she came and that he knew she would show (eventually).

Before she can even smile back at Clint's hospitality, Tony is shoving a fancy looking glass of some sort of liver damaging concoction that tastes really fucking good into her hands, and telling her that he's really glad she came; apparently he was just really done with Clint and Steve's company. (Clint and Steve looked hurt. She laughed.)

She begins to realize that coming over here wasn't such a bad idea after all.

She hasn't had this much fun in years, and she spends the night drinking, laughing and telling silly stories about Pietro and herself that she hadn't thought about in years. And she understands that this is exactly what her brother would have wanted her to do all along. She can't believe that it took her this long to figure it out. Her brother wouldn't have wanted her to become isolated and detached – he would have wanted her to be out and about, saving people, having fun.

Clint, who is ever the responsible one, won't let her or Steve leave Tony's residence, so she crashes on the couch that probably costs more money that she has ever had and falls into sleep almost immediately.

It's nice having friends. (Plus Tony seems to really enjoy her jokes and according to Steve, that's a pretty hard feat to accomplish)

* * *

She found out that this get together thing was a weekly occurrence, and they were pleased to hear that she would try to make it to the next one. So Saturday evening rolls around once again, and she's rushing to get into ton's building (its pouring cats and dogs outside) so she doesn't get her hair wet, which would be a shame because for the first time ever (?) she put more than three minutes into it.

She enters and heads straight towards the elevator and the doors open briskly. Only Tony is there, and she says her hello, which isn't as awkward as she thought it was going to be. He offers her a drink, to which she refuses. (It's too early in the evening for her to start drinking; the sun is still up for god's sake.) They're keeping small talk, which is nice; she's never really gotten to talk to Tony, who despite the arrogant personality, seems like a pretty nice guy.

But it's not what he says, it's what he doesn't say that makes her feel like she doesn't really belong here, with him – or any of them – for that matter. She feels like a little girl in comparison to them. It's not because they look down on her, it's because they don't; they treat her with a respect that she doesn't really deserve to be treated with.

She was bad; she made bad decisions and bad choices for the whole of her life. Just because she made three tiny good ones (that ultimately stopped the annihilation of the human race) doesn't make her some hero.

And no matter how much they like her or she likes them, she doesn't think that she'll ever see herself as the hero they make her out to be. (But that doesn't mean she's turning down their invitations; Tony buys the good expensive stuff and practically forces her to pour it down her throat if she won't take it.)

* * *

 **Long time no see!**

 **this is chapter three and it was supposed to be posted about a week ago but I didn't have my laptop because I was at a soft opening of a waterpark and then I was visiting my grandmother and everything has just been so chaotic im sorry.**

 **I hope you like it (and if you haven't read chapter two, its a hop skip and a jump away on theshippingprinces page. (you should also check out some of our other stuff bc it would mean a helluva lot to us)**

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 **bleuboxes**


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